


you’re the only one i wanna talk about

by lesbianenderman (eghed)



Series: artist au [2]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Artist!Peter, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Juno Steel Has Never Seen A Computer, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2019-07-05 15:42:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15866658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eghed/pseuds/lesbianenderman
Summary: “Get to the point, Nureyev.”“Peter! Anyway, if you’re up for it, it would be really good for me if we could just. Fake a relationship for a little while!”“What? No!”





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> title is from “talk about you” by mika! thank you so much to everyone who was so so sweet in the comments of this fics predecesor! i hope you know that every time someone said something nice i told my mom!

“Brahman Artist Peter Nureyev: Secret Boyfriend?”  
“You Won’t Believe How Cute Nureyev’s Boy Toy Is!”  
“Unprofessionalism in the Art World: Keep Your Romance at Home” 

Juno has to say, he’s getting annoyed. 

He’s never been one for the public eye. He’s a very reserved person and is more than happy to keep to his own life while everyone keeps to theirs, but the internet’s recent goose chase to find him has been making that difficult. In other words, he’s been hiding in his apartment for three days. 

Rita, bless her heart, has been calling him every day to make sure he isn’t dead. She really could just check the work records and find out that he’d been calling in sick, but he knows she likes having confirmation. 

“Boss, you don’t have, like, mono or something, do you? That can get ya down for months at a time! Did I tell you about that episode of—“ 

“I don’t have mono, Ritz, and you don’t need to call me ‘boss’. You get paid more than me.” Juno scratches his head and takes a sip of his microwave chicken soup. “Hey, have you been seeing the news about—“ 

“About Nureyev?” Rita says without missing a beat. Juno coughs. “Of course I have! You think I live under a rock? Those gallery lights really do bring out your eyes in those paparazzi pictures, you know!” 

Juno groans. “Do you think you can, uh, remove them somehow?” 

Rita pauses. “Whaddaya mean, ‘remove’?” 

“You know, take them down. Get them off there. I don’t like knowing that people are looking at me.” 

“People look at you all the time, Boss! You’ve got quite a face.” She snorts. “But hey, I’m sorry to say that isn’t quite how these things work. People’ve been sharing those pictures all over! It’d take ages for a regular hacker to get it done.”

“You’re no regular hacker, Rita.”

“I know!” She giggles crunchily. “It’s just fun to watch you squirm under the gaze of society. I gotta get back to work now, love you!” 

“Rita—“ Juno starts, but the line is dead. He throws his phone down. “Love you too,” He says through gritted teeth. 

So he’s still right where he started, pictures of him on every artist gossip site (which is something that exists, apparently) and rumors of him being friendly with Peter Nureyev. It’s awful, of course, but the worst part is that he isn’t entirely opposed to the idea. Nureyev’s so... pretentious, and annoying, and his art isn’t even anything special! It’s just realism! 

But he thinks back to the feeling of slender fingers on his hands, and he gets shivers. 

He sighs, and digs in his pockets for Nureyev’s card. 

 

To: +718-902-XXXX  
From: Juno  
is this nureyev 

From: +718-902-XXXX  
To: Juno  
Depends who’s asking! (;

To: +718-902-XXXX  
From: Juno  
juno from the museum, your quote boy toy unquote apparently 

From: +718-902-XXXX  
To: Juno  
Finally! I was worried you weren’t going to reach out.  
Also, you know you can just use the quote buttons, right? Like “this”?  
ALSO also, I thought I told you to call me Peter!

To: Peter Nureyev  
From: Juno  
i couldn’t find those keys  
..... peter  
anyway. have you seen the news 

From: Peter Nureyev  
To: Juno  
Oh, have I ever. Are you available to speak on the phone?

To: Peter Nureyev  
From: Juno  
fine

 

Juno rubs his eyebrows and, after a moment of hesitation, takes a sip of water. He hasn’t spoken much in the past few days. He figures his voice’ll be rough. The phone rings, and he snorts because he forgot he made his ringtone Britney Spear’s Toxic. He answers. 

“Hello?” His voice cracks. Cool start, Steel. 

“Oh, hey you!” Peter’s voice is vibrant as ever. The way he’s speaking makes a Juno think of a schoolgirl in an old movie, curling a telephone cord around her finger. 

“What was so important that we couldn’t have texted it?” Juno sighs. 

“Oh, nothing really. You’re simply an unbearably boring texter!” Peter chirps.

“Gee, you really know how to make a lady feel special, Nureyev.”

“For the last time, that’s Peter! Everyone calls me Nureyev, I want you to be different!” 

Juno feels his face flush lightly, but he ignores the warmth in his cheeks and flops down onto his comforter. “That doesn’t quite quell the rumors of our secret steamy relationship, pal.” Peter laughs boisterously. 

“Quite right, Juno! You’re rather clever, you know. You could be a detective!” Peter gives himself a moment to catch his breath from all his rude comments. “Anyhow, that’s what I’d like to talk about!” 

“Oh, thank god. Are you working on getting those pictures removed, because I really don’t wanna get cornered by people who recognize me from online next time I leave my house—“ 

“‘Next time’? Juno, those pictures have been going around for three days.” 

“Yeah? And?” Juno rolls onto his side. There’s an empty ramen packet on the floor next to a pair of dirty socks. He rolls onto his back again. In his ear, he hears Peter snort. 

“If you’re really that worried about it, I can have them removed. But!” Peter hurries on before Juno can respond. “I have a proposition for you.” 

“Jesus. What.” 

Peter laughs. “Lighten up, princess. So here’s my thoughts. This ‘relationship’ business has been giving my gallery—and the rest of my work—a lot of positive attention. People come to the gallery in hopes to find out more about our mysterious affair, or whatever, and then people check out my other stuff because everyone needs more gay content creators in their lives.”

“Get to the point, Nureyev.”

“Peter! Anyway, if you’re up for it, it would be really good for me if we could just. Fake a relationship for a little while!”

Pardon? What does this guy think this is, a Marsflix original romcom? “What? No!” He hears Peter make a little whining noise. He wishes it wasn’t so cute.

“Come on, Juno! It’s not like you have anything better to do, Mr. Hasn’t Left The House in Three Days!” 

“My last name is Steel, but thanks. What would I even get out of this?”

“My company! An exquisite portrait by yours truly, which has been on the table since the beginning!” He pauses. “I suppose I could offer you monetary compensation!” 

Juno bristles. “How bad do you think I need money?” Peter makes a noise.

“Not badly at all, no ma’am! But it seems one can never have enough money in this day and age!” He sounds... almost desperate. It’s a real refresher from his usual overconfident snarky persona. Maybe this is, like, important to him.

Juno resigns.

“Fine. But if anything gets weird, I’m out.” 

He hears Peter clap, which is unfairly cute. “Thank you so much, Juno! I promise this will be a lot of fun! I’ll see you tomorrow at the gallery—“ —he can practically hear the shit-eating grin Peter has on right now— “—baby.” 

The line goes dead. Juno rolls onto his stomach and groans into his mattress.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rita is the only character i care about! also good news this is a ben lives au! no angst in my lobby

“You’ve got a WHAT?” 

Juno really should’ve figured this would’ve happened if he called Rita. He just wanted to know what he should wear for his pretend-date with Peter, and he figured Rita could help because she goes on dates all the time! She must know what she’s doing, because she’s been with Sasha for almost a year now. 

He failed to remember that Rita’s been trying to get him to date again for about as long as they’ve known each other, however, and that she would most certainly lose her marbles about this. 

“Is the whole concept that shocking to you?” Juno mumbles, even though of course it is. “Besides, it’s not even—“

“A big deal? Of course it’s a big deal, Mr. Steel! It’s been, like, a hundred years since you’ve liked anybody!” Juno has to hold the phone away from his ear. He’s worried Rita’s spit is gonna travel through the receiver and get on his face. “Why the sudden change?” 

“It’s, uh, kind of complicated, but Nureyev—“ 

“NUREYEV?” Rita shrieks. Yikes. Should’ve seen that coming. 

“Yeah, but—“ 

“Holy buckets! This is so romantic! Meeting in an art gallery, falling in love under a watercolor sunset—“

“He uses oil paint,” Juno cuts her off, “and you aren’t letting me finish. It’s not—“

“Too late, Mr. Steel! I’m on my way and I’m loaded with dress shirts!” 

The line goes dead. 

Jesus. 

Fifteen agonizing minutes later, his door buzzes. He slumps over to open it, and he’s met with what looks like a giant laundry monster. 

“Hi, Ritz,” Juno says as she marches through the door and drops her mountain of clothes on the couch. 

“Dress now, talk later! Do you still have that fun skirt?” She starts rifling through her shirts. 

“You’d kill me if I got rid of it.” The skirt they’ve been referring to is a knee-length, high waisted black thing that puffs out dramatically if the wearer were to spin. If Juno was more of a spinny lady he might be more excited about that particular feature. Rita was the spinniest lady around, and she was very excited about that feature. Juno went to his room to grab it. It was sitting delicately on the floor under an empty box of Triscuits. Juno doesn’t remember eating them. He dusts off the crumbs and brings it out. 

“Why is it so wrinkled?” Rita asks as he drops it in her pile. “And why does it smell like that?” 

Juno shrugs. Rita groans. 

“Go put that in the wash!” She waves him off and holds up a black floral dress shirt to the light. Juno rolls his eyes and scoops up the flowy fabric.

On his way to the apartment laundry room, Juno has time to think. He’s just kind of accepted that Rita thinks he and Nureyev are madly in love or something, and he supposes that’s good because that’s what they’re trying to do, but he’s not really into tricking his best friend. Come to think of it, he doesn’t even know how he’s gonna explain it to Mick, or Sasha, or, Christ, Ben. 

Mick wouldn’t believe him. Mick and Rita can be scarily alike sometimes, so Mick would think he was pulling a fast one on him. He’d ask to be best man at the wedding, and laugh all the way home. Sasha would call him an idiot and then hang up, which, fair. Ben would make fun of him forever. Getting a crush on a guy and then agreeing to pose as his lady friend? Pretty stupid, Super Steel. 

After a moment of pause (in which he puts his quarters into the coin slot and presses the start button) he decides not to tell any of them. 

Like, what’s the harm? His close friends and family members think that he has a boyfriend for a little while. They’re happy he’s “getting out more”, or whatever, and when it’s over it’ll be like nothing happened. Because, in reality, nothing did! 

The thought makes Juno’s stomach turn a little. 

His phone chimes. A text from Rita. 

 

To: Juno  
From: your best and closest friend RITA!!!!  
juno what’s taking so long   
ddi the laundry monster get u   
did*  
heyyyyyy bosssssssssss  
hewwo???? mw steew????

To: your best and closest friend RITA!!!!  
From: Juno   
relax ill be up in a minute 

To: Juno  
From: your best and closest friend RITA!!!!  
youd better be!!!! these shirts cant try on themselves!!! >:3

 

Juno smiles and shuts off his phone. 

When he’s back up, Rita tosses a dozen colorful shirts at him and pushes him into the bathroom to try them on. He steps out between each one to get her opinion, and after eleven exhausting buttonings and unbuttonings, she’s satisfied with a burgundy fellow that has slightly darker burgundy flowers along the shoulders. He thinks it looks a little weird unless you’ve got the lighting to show it off, but Rita assures him the art gallery lighting will make it work. 

“You look completely dashing, Mister Steel!” She cheers. “Now get out of that before you wrinkle it! And remember to hang it up, ya goon!” 

He changes back into the pajamas he’d been wearing. He helps Rita pack up all her shirts and they hang out on the couch. Rita questions him completely unmercifully. He bullshits his way through his answers, but she accepts everything he says at face value. He really does love her. 

His phone chimes. He glances over at it, and then his eyes widen when he realizes it’s a message from Peter. Rita follows his gaze and her wheel face lights up. 

“Agh! Boss! It’s your man!” She hollers, clambering to the phone to see what it says. Juno’s easy lying demeanor crumbles as he realizes Peter’s probably texting him about some condition or other of their fake relationship. He hisses and tucks his phone against his chest before Rita can see it. 

“Boss, lemme see! I’ve gotta help you make a charming, charismatic response—“ Realization dawns on her features. Oh god, has she figured it out? Juno thinks to himself, but her face contorts into a villainous smirk. She looks like a cat emoji. “Oh, is it one of those messages?” 

What.

What?

What!

OH. 

Alright, Steel, you’ve got two options. Either crush Rita’s hopes and tell her you’ve been lying, or let her laugh at you for... ugh. Sexting Peter. 

Unfortunately, there is a better option here. 

“Uh, haha, you caught me.” He says, wildly uncomfortable. “I’ll just, uh, clear that for now—“

“Oh, don’t let me ruin your fun, Mr. Steel!” She winks. Juno can feel his bones melting out of his body. “I’ll gather my pieces and be on my way. You have a good evening, boss!” 

“Uh. Uh, you too, Ritz.” This is quite possibly the worst moment of his whole life. 

Rita exits and he slides down the sofa, groaning. Sluggishly, he looks at his phone. 

 

From: Peter Nureyev  
To: Juno  
Have you seen the movie “Attack of the Killer Tomatoes”? It sounds silly, but I think it’s worth a watch! 

 

Juno throws his phone across the room.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I believe we should discuss the conditions of our arrangement,” Peter says, voice level and quiet. Juno nods.
> 
> Peter waits. 
> 
> “Oh, like, now?” 
> 
> Peter sighs.

Juno stares at himself in his rear-view mirror, parked precariously in the parking lot of the art gallery. Rita helped him do his hair and makeup before he left, and he really had to hand it to her. His eyelids are delicately gold and his lips are glossy and red. He looks... well, he looks like he’s ready for a hot date. 

He groans, slams his face into the steering wheel and lets the horn blare. 

Bad idea, evidently, because he hears a gentle knock on his window. He reluctantly turns his head, and who but Peter Nureyev is bent next to his car, clearly holding back a laugh. 

He rolls the window down without raising his head off the horn. 

“Darling, you seem to be laying on—“

“Am I really?” Juno asks, monotone. Peter snorts. 

“While I’m so terribly charmed by your stubbornness and dry wit, my ears are starting to hurt. Could you sit up, dear?” 

Fucking pet names. Awful. 

He sits up anyway. 

“Funny seeing you here,” He says in monotone. Peter smiles. 

“Funny is a word,” Peter says good-naturedly. “Oh, angel, you’ve got a little...” He trails off and brings a hand forward to rest against Juno’s chin and swipes a finger above his upper lip. He flinches. 

“Careful where you put those things,” Juno grumbles, nodding towards Peter’s stiletto-sharp fingernails. His thumb has a bit of red gloss on it, and Juno figures Rita’s hard work had been smudged. So much for looking presentable, Juno resigns. 

Peter smirks. “Oh, I will be.” 

Juno resists slamming his face into the horn again and steps out of the car. 

 

The pair make their way through the museum. They had agreed to arrive early for their ‘date’ so they could do a bit of exploring before Peter has to be at his exhibit. They walk in silence for a few minutes, keeping a reasonable distance between them, until they read a small fountain. Peter motions for a Juno to sit on the edge of it with him. He does. 

“I believe we should discuss the conditions of our arrangement,” Peter says, voice level and quiet. Juno nods and picks at a loose string in his shirt. “Such as, physical boundaries, perhaps a bit of backstory, you know, things like that.” Juno nods again. 

Peter waits. 

“Oh, like, now?” Peter sighs. 

“Yes, Juno, now. Why would I have asked you here early if not to talk?” 

Juno’s beginning to notice something about Peter. He has a very flirtatious and open side to him, all glitter dust and sharp grins, but there’s another side to him, too. A little antsy, calculating, reserved. It’s interesting to just watch him, because in those quiet, lonely moments his face is soft and is brow gently furrowed, but the moment he catches you noticing his face sculpts itself back into that winning open curve. 

Fuck. He’s still waiting for an answer, isn’t he? 

“Uh,” Juno says intelligently, and Peter snorts. 

“Looks like I’ll be serving this round,” he says, and Juno’s dumb lizard brain immediately and highly unhelpfully conjures up an image of him in a little tennis outfit. It’s cute, and entirely distracting. “We should keep it simple, so it’d be better to say we met, say, in a bar or online or someplace. Do you have a preference?”

“Uh, a bar sounds more in character. For me, anyway.” 

“I can’t tell if that means you’re a heavy drinker or you just can’t work a phone,” Peter smirks. Juno rolls his eyes. “Okay, so that’s out of the way. What are your boundaries?”

Jeez. Way to ease a lady into it. 

Juno’s two immediate reactions are “don’t ever touch me”, but then, because it’s Peter, “do whatever you want, please”. Neither of those seem like the most intelligent things to blurt out, so he shrugs. 

“I don’t really care, I guess.” Not true. He cares a lot. 

“You’re really not helping me, dear,” Peter chides, “but alright. Are you alright if I kiss you?” 

Yes, yes, Jesus. Obviously! Yes! “Yeah, that doesn’t really bother me.” 

“Great!” Peter claps his hands together and grins. “That’s about the worst we’d have to do, potentially of course, so everything ‘below’ that, so to speak, should be alright.”

Juno nods. It’s all he can do, really, with Peter saying he’ll kiss him. Potentially. 

 

Peter’s leg, right next to Juno’s on the fountain ledge, begins to vibrate. For a hot second Juno panics, thinking hid leg is cybernetic and he’s a robot, but he withdraws a phone with a simple black case and clicks the screen open. 

“Time for my grand entrance,” he says, and stands up. “Care to join me, darling?” He offers his arm to Juno. He takes it and tries not to wobble on his low-heeled shoes. Don’t lock your knees if you don’t want to pass out, Ben’s voice rings in his head. He resists a snort as Peter starts walking. His strides are long and confident, just like him. Juno feels a little silly being pulled along, but he also feels safe her in the crook of this artist’s arm.

Dumb. Stupid of him, to get so attached to this imaginary idea so quickly. 

But he just smells so good! 

“Juno, stand up straight. We’re almost there,” Peter says in his ear. He suppresses a shiver. He really could do ASMR if the whole art thing doesn’t work out. He straightens his back and rolls his shoulders. They step into the room. 

Juno half expects some great gasp, for a giant room full of people to drop their jaws as the two of them enter. Of course not, though. This is an art museum, not the MET Gala. There are two women sitting on a bench in front of the cat painting and a lone reporter, bouncing on her heels. Juno remembers her from last time. She reminds him of Rita. 

When she sees them enter, she jumps up and rushes over to them. 

“ Mr Nureyev! You’re, um, early!” She glances between the two of them rapidly. Peter laughs good-naturedly. 

“That I am, madame! As are you!” She flushes. Juno relates. 

“Oh, well, I wanted to make sure I could cover every day as in-depth as possible! Something gives me the feeling this exhibit is quite historic, sir!” She tries to wink, but it’s so subtle and graceless, had it been anyone else watching, they wouldn’t have noticed. 

But it’s Juno, so of course he does. He feels bad for her. 

She shakes herself off and readies her notepad. “So, Mr. Nureyev, what’s new? Who’s your, um, friend?” 

Peter smiles. “Oh, him? This is my Juno.” He looks at him with the softest expression Juno maybe has ever seen and lifts a hand to squeeze his. Juno wants to cry. 

“Your... um, great! Mr. Juno, how do you and Mr. Nureyev know each other?” 

Juno panics for a split second, forgetting the backstory they worked out, but he recenters on Peter’s hand on his and exhales. “We met in a bar, a few, uh, months ago, and we just. Well, we just clicked, I guess?” Peter nods. 

“That’s very sweet,” says the reporter. She writes furiously and shoves her glasses higher on her nose. “I’m always grateful to see more LGBT creators succeeding in their venues, especially as a member of the community myself!” 

Peter beams at her. “I’m happy to hear that! Be gay and make art, as they say!” 

“Who says that,” Juno can’t help but mutter. Peter elbows him, and he’s worried he’s fucked up, but the reporter is snorting. 

“I do!” He says indignantly. “You told me you thought it would catch, dear!” 

“I tell you a lot of things, honey.” He tries to make the pet name sound bitter, but in a cute way. Like coffee-bitter. It works, because the reporter “aww’s” at them 

“You two are just too cute!” She sighs. “I’ll leave you to it, I suppose. Oh, and Mr. Nureyev! Congrats on the extension!” 

“The—“ Peter’s expression falters for only a moment. “Right! Of course, thank you!” 

She walks away and Juno gives Peter a quizzical look. “Extension?” 

Peter turns to him, and he’s completely radiant. Like, in general, but also he has on a dazzling smile. “My exhibit is a success,” he says, “I get another week!” 

Juno laughs. “That’s great, P—“ and then Peter is wrapping him in a hug. His feet are not touching the floor, and his face is pressed into Peter’s shoulder. His smell is a lot stronger up close, unfortunately for Juno, who gets a nose full. 

“Nureyev, w—Peter, my lip gloss—“

“Oh! Oh, haha, whoops!” Peter sets Juno down and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. There is, in fact, a lipstick mark on his lapel. Juno opens his mouth to apologize, but Peter shushes him. 

“It adds to the character, Juno, leave it. Hang on, though—“ he swipes his thumb along Juno’s lip once again, retrieving the smudged color. Juno leans into his hand on instinct. Peter pulls away, looking satisfied.

“Now you’re presentable, dearest. Let’s get settled, shall we?” He motions for Juno to follow him further into the exhibit 

“Uh, yes,” Juno says, “let’s.” 

And they do, Juno blushing on Peter’s arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if u liked this and want more of my cool content my tumblr is joaquinterrero! come say hi!!


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Right away, three articles along the lines of ‘Peter Nureyev Boyfriend???’ appear, and Juno rolls his eyes. 
> 
> “Not a boy,” he mumbles into his comforter, but he keeps scrolling.

Juno’s really starting to feel like a grade-a idiot. 

The ‘date’ went well, sure. As well as it could have, with Juno sweating through his shirt the whole time, anyway. He and Peter stood around, doing their best to keep their shoulders or hands touching, giving the reporters a show. Peter had kissed him on the hand as they parted ways, and if Juno sat shaking in his car for ten minutes afterwards that was nobody’s business but his own. 

When he got home, he had texted Rita and let her yell in his ear for half an hour before telling her he loves her and flopping onto his bed, where he is now. 

He rolls onto his stomach with a groan and pulls his phone out of his back pocket, tapping on his browser app and searching up ‘Peter Nureyev’. (Well, really, he searches ‘Peyer Mureteb’, but his search engine figures it out.) Right away, three articles along the lines of ‘Peter Nureyev Boyfriend???’ appear, and Juno rolls his eyes. 

“Not a boy,” he mumbles into his comforter, but he keeps scrolling. 

He whips past articles from their last meeting and several art review blogs and stumbles upon a site that looks relatively out of place. It’s a page for a theater troupe based in Brahma. Confused, Juno taps the link. 

Even a technological dumbass like Juno can tell the site is old. A low-quality image of a logo sits at the top, followed by some unorganized links. He taps the Times New Roman link labeled ‘About the Company’. 

The page has a brief description, and then member headshots. He scrolls through, eyes narrowed, until he finds him. Peter Nureyev, unmistakable even without his dramatic makeup, smiles impishly at him from his small screen. Juno lingers, just enjoying the view for a moment, before moving on to the short bio. 

/Q: Name?  
A: Peter Nureyev, but you can call me anytime!   
Q: Age?   
A: 29!   
Q: Notable roles?   
A: Hamlet, King Kreon, Duke Orsino  
Q: Any hidden talents, or lack thereof?  
A: I can untie any knot! As for the second part of that question, I’m kind of a hysterically bad artist./

Hang on. What? 

Juno reads that tiny script five times over, absolutely boggled. Why would he say that? Clearly, he’s very talented. Is it just self deprecation, or a joke? Either way, it’s super weird. He shakes his head and dials Rita’s number. 

“Hiya, Mr. Steel! Whaddaya need?” She tweets into his ear.

“Hey, Ritz, can you help me? It’s a computer issue.” She makes an excited noise!

“You don’t even have to ask, boss! What’s the problem? De-tech-tive Rita is on the case!” She chortles to herself. He gives her a moment to get her giggles out. 

“I just... uh, I need the date? That the site was made. Where is it?” He hears a loud and exaggerated sigh in his ear. 

“Boring! That’s easy, what’s the domain name?” 

He sends her the link. She ‘hmms’ and taps around a little bit.

“Alrighty, says here the site was made September about seven years ago and was last edited two years ago in July. Why?” 

“Can you—“ he taps his chin. “Is there a way to see when a specific bit was added?

“Obviously. Which part?” 

He pauses. He hadn’t really considered how weird it was that he was doing deep research on the guy he’s supposedly dating. Sure, Rita knows he’s got trust issues, but he’s not this weird about it. His shoulders slump a little. 

“Oh, forget it. Thanks for your help, Rita.”

“Anytime, anyplace, boss! Love you!” He can picture her waving into the receiver. 

“Love you too,” He says. The line goes dead and he rolls onto his back. He’s frustrated. Here’s this little mystery, right at Juno’s fingertips, and he can’t solve it because he’s a little socially anxious around his best friend. How stupid. 

His phone buzzes, and plays a little bit of Shake It by Metro Station. A text from Ben. He unlocks his phone and has a look.

 

To: Juno  
From: best twin   
howdy brother c]:3  
To: best twin  
From: Juno  
cowboy?   
anyway do you need something   
To: Juno  
From: best twin   
can’t a pardner just text his favorite twin without a reason yeehaw?  
To: best twin  
From: Juno  
theoretically but you don’t   
that yeehaw was completely out of place btw  
To: Juno  
From: best twin   
whatever   
a sad and distant giddyup  
anyway wanna get lunch tmrw? we have matters to discuss owo   
To: best twin  
From: Juno  
you should stop talking to rita  
anyway where do u want to go  
To: Juno  
From: best twin   
ill send u the address   
see u at two SHARP!!!! xoxoxoxo

 

Juno chucks his phone onto the carpet and passes out in his dress clothes and his shoes. It’s been a long day. 

He wakes up at eleven-thirty the next day to good-morning texts from Rita and Mick, three reminders from Ben, and a message from Peter. 

 

To: Juno  
From: Peter   
Happy weekend, darling! The weather looks delicious for the next two days. I truly hope you leave your apartment for even a few minutes!   
To: Peter  
From: Juno  
come on. i leave my house like all the time  
i’m leaving it today in fact!   
To: Juno  
From: Peter  
I’ll believe that when I see it, dearest. 

 

Juno groans. He really did have to go and catch feelings for the most annoying little punk out there, didn’t he. He rolls out of bed and wipes a hand down his face. His makeup is still there, if only barely. He feels nasty. He takes care of his bathroom routine and throws on some more comfortable clothes. It’s nice to have actual pants on. 

Once he’s stretched and had some oatmeal, he remembers why he got out of bed in the first place. He rolls his eyes, though he can’t help his smile, and strolls onto his balcony. He pulls his phone out and takes a picture of his hand, formed into a peace sign, floating above the Martian grass below. He sends it to Peter. 

 

To: Peter  
From: Juno  
image.jpg  
believe it   
To: Juno  
From: Peter  
While I love looking at your beautiful hands, you very well could’ve just stuck your arm out the door and taken a photo from the comfort of your home!   
One can never be too suspicious.

 

Juno groans. He flips his camera around and makes an unimpressed face. He taps around blindly until he hears the synthetic ‘click’ of the button. He looks at the picture. It’s blurry. He shrugs and presses send. 

 

To: Peter  
From: Juno  
image.jpg   
you’re so demanding.   
be nicer to your lady friend!   
To: Juno  
From: Peter  
Well, with a face like that, how could I refuse?   
On another note, I have to ask.   
Did you turn your phone around to take that picture? You know you have a front-facing camera, right?  
To: Peter  
From: Juno  
idk how to access it   
anyway, what are we up to next week   
To: Juno  
From: Peter  
I’m glad you asked!   
The museum curators are hosting a luncheon for me and some others who are interested in displaying at the museum. I’d like to bring you as my date!   
This will be on Monday at two. The restaurant is fairly close to the museum. 

 

Juno’s practically already calling in sick to work that day as he texts back a “sure”, desperately hoping he didn’t respond too quickly or emphatically. With that sorted, he drags himself inside to put actual clothes on. A short-sleeve button down and some green shorts are what he chooses, and he can practically feel Rita beaming at him for not wearing a hoodie and sweats. He snatches a water bottle from the fridge and strolls put the door to his car. 

The restaurant Ben had insisted on is about fifty minutes away from Juno, but he’s not too bothered. He doesn’t get to see Ben all that often, with where their respective jobs have them located, so it’s no trouble if he has to drive a little while to see hi. He cracks jokes, but he really loves his brother. 

For once in his life, traffic is smooth and he shaves almost ten minutes off the estimated time. He listens to the mixtape Mick made him for his birthday last year as he drives. There’s a parking spot right by the door. Not bad, Steel! He walks through the door. Ben waves him over to a booth by a window. He’s wearing the production shirt from the ballet he just finished directing and a big old smile. 

“Super Steel!” He cheers and pulls Juno into a bear hug. Juno coughs as the wind is knocked out of him and pats Ben’s back. 

“Hey, Benten,” He says, pulling back and taking a seat. Ben sits across from him. “How’s life?” 

A Cheshire smile falls on Ben’s face. “Oh, that hardly matters. What’s going on with you, bud?” 

Right. Juno forgot that Ben googles himself all the time. The odds that a stray Juno-related article would slide into that mess aren’t small. He shrinks a little. “You know. Work.” 

Ben throws his head back and laughs. “Working on what, my man?” He says through his snorts. “Because I have about three-dozen articles that say you’ve been working on your love life, if anything—“

“Fine!” Jesus, Juno knew this would happen. “Yeah, I, uh, I’m seeing someone.” 

“Oh, just ‘someone’? Just some rando, huh?” Ben’s grin expands. “Not, say, a renowned classical artist who’s work is worth 60 million creds?” 

“Sixty million?” Juno says that a little louder than he meant to, because a customer wearing overalls and platform sneakers glares at him. He gulps. How did he not know that?

“Uh, yeah, dude!” Ben looks a little astonished. “Good to know you’re not a sugar baby, I guess, but why didn’t you know that?” 

“We met under weird circumstances,” Juno says through gritted teeth, “I’m still getting to know him.” 

“He must be pretty humble, then!” He elbows Juno across the table. It should be awkward, but Ben makes it fly. “You’ve really got a keeper, haven’t you? When do I get to meet him?” 

Ah, right. Shit. He really didn’t think this through. How’s he supposed to tell Ben, his twin brother and top-five closest confidant, that he can’t meet his boyfriend? What sort of message would that send? Obviously he, and Peter wouldn’t be together very long (ouch) so he can’t have Ben becoming best friends with the guy like he inevitably would and being almost as crushed as Juno when they split up. That’s usually how it went for the two of them, back when Juno used to date. 

Juno shakes himself off. “Um, I’d rather wait until we’re more, uh, serious? Before I introduce you two.” 

Ben nods. “That’s fair. Don’t get mad if I bother you about it, though. I have ADHD, I’m impatient!” 

“Yeah, I know,” Juno mumbles. That’s Ben; passionate, reckless and fast moving. He follows his gut. That’s why he got married to his husband, Dante, so quickly after they met. That was three years ago, and he hasn’t stopped pestering Juno to settle down since then. Juno honestly assumed he’d be in a cold ditch somewhere before he met somebody worth spending his life with.

Now, he’s not so sure. 

The waiter swishes up to the table. “Good afternoon, you two! What can I get started for you today?” She says good-naturedly.

Juno rolls his shoulders. “I’ll have a pink lemonade, please.” He was getting in top deep in this Peter business, but he didn’t think he wanted to be pulled out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! ur nice comments are so important to me and it always puts a big grin on my face. this chapter was kinda long! i was just having fun.   
> my tumblr is joaquinterrero if you’d like to say hi!   
> bens husband, dante, who is very briefly mentioned, is my amazing friend micha’s oc! their tumblr is sraphs go give them a kiss   
> one more thing! this fic is pretty much unplanned. i don’t have an outline or anything, though i know basically where i want the plot to go. there’ll be some inconsistencies, but stick with me!! we’ll get there! thank you for being patient!


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, Siri,” He says.
> 
> “I’m listening,” an Australian woman’s voice chimes from the edge of his bathtub. 
> 
> “Search for luncheon etiquette guide,” he says. 
> 
> “Searching for crunching Atticus guy,” Siri says confidently. Juno groans.

Juno wiggles in front of his mirror, adjusting his black tie and sweeping a hand through his hair. Rita and Mick are singing along to Every Time We Touch out in his kitchen and while it’s endearing, he’s trying desperately to tune it out. The luncheon is in exactly two hours and he feels entirely underprepared. 

“Hey, Siri,” He says without looking away from his mirror. He fishes around in a drawer for a comb and pulls it out, raking it through his tangles. 

“I’m listening,” an Australian woman’s voice chimes from the edge of his bathtub. 

“Search for luncheon etiquette guide,” he says. He feels like all his hair is falling out. How on Mars is it so tangled? 

“Searching for crunching Atticus guy,” Siri says confidently. Juno groans, and then hisses as he tugs on his scalp. 

“No no no, Siri, ‘luncheon etiquette—oh, why do I bother!” He throws his comb into the sink and grabs his phone. “Why are you so dumb?” He grumbles. He searches around for a ‘turn off Siri’ button. 

“I’m sorry,” she responds, not sounding sorry at all. He stomps on the floor and busts out the door. In his furious hair craze, he had missed the song changing from the electric tones of Cascada to Never Give Up on the Good Times. Mick and Rita are swing dancing. 

“Rita, fix my phone,” he drops it on the kitchen counter and heads to his pantry to grab a light snack. 

“Did you bring it in the shower again? Mr. Steel, I told you they ain’t waterproof—“ she pauses. “What’s wrong with it?” 

“Siri is a monster and she won’t leave me alone,” he snatches a packet of cashews from the cupboard and turns around. Mick is still dancing around, but instead of dancing with Rita he’s lovingly holding a bag of tortilla chips. Rita is looking from Juno to the phone and back again. 

“Do you want me to disable her permanently, or—“

“You can do that?” Juno’s eyes widen. He pulls his packet of cashews open and pours several into his mouth. 

“Jesus Christ, boss,” She says delicately, and taps near the bottom of the screen. There’s a light clicking sound, and Siri is no more. “How do you have a job?”

“Computers are killing our youth,” Juno says curtly. He walks over, grabs his phone, and ruffles Rita’s hair. “Thanks.” 

“Jesus Christ,” She says again. 

The song changes to some dream-pop Juno doesn’t recognize, and Mick sets his tortillas down. “How long until you’re outie, bro?” Mick speaks like a dad trying to impress his teen daughter. He’s not trying to impress anyone. It’s just how he speaks. 

“An hour and a half? I dunno. It starts at two,” he says with a shrug. Mick grins. 

“That means you’ve got time to stay for our movie marathon!” He cheers. Juno groans. 

“I’m already letting you clowns use my T.V., the least you can do is let me nap for a while.” 

“Oh, nuh-uh, boss,” Rita shakes her finger at him. “You and I both know how groggy you get when you nap. You’ll crash your car!” 

“Let it happen,” he grumbles, but slides down on the couch anyway. “How long until it starts?” 

“Like, five minutes.” Mick sits down on the floor much too close to the T.V. and presses a couple buttons on the remote. It turns on to some food show. Rita rolls her eyes.

“C’mon, get to the goods!” She jeers at the screen. She shoves a fistful of tortilla chips into her mouth. 

“Are the Andromeda movies even that good?” Juno wonders aloud. The show cuts to a commercial. “Like, North Star has a huge budget for these things. Isn’t it just a shoddy story hidden behind nice special effects and hot actors?”

Mick gasps in mock outrage. “How dare you! Andromeda is a touching and intense story about love, and loss, and what home means, and, and,” He fumbles.

“She is pretty dreamy, though,” Rita cuts in. “Like, girls in armor? Yes please!” 

“Rita, you aren’t helping my case!” 

The three of them crowd around the screen, gazing into the blue-tinted light and providing dumb commentary when the script allows for it. Juno has to admit that Rita’s right, Andromeda is quite pretty, but her actress really had to carry the movie. The rest of the characters were all eye-candy or ugly stereotypes. Besides, Juno’s not really one for action/adventure. He’s more of a rom-com kinda girl. 

Halfway through the movie, something buzzes under his ass. He groans for a second, assuming it’s Sasha frantically wondering where her girlfriend is, but when he looks, it’s much worse. 

 

To: Juno  
From: Peter  
Good afternoon, my heart! Are you on your way? 

 

Delivered at 1:39. 

Fuuuuck. 

He definitely does not yelp as he shoots off the couch, dusting crumbs off his button-down and racing out the door with a “don’t trash my apartment!” and bursting into his car. He plugs the key into the ignition and slaps the dashboard a few times and she turns on. He slams on the gas in a way that is perhaps less than legal and puts his phone on the center console. 

“Hey Siri,” He says regrettably, “Text Peter.”

“What would you like to say to Peter?” She says. Juno does a “brr” with his lips to warm them up like Ben showed him, and speaks as clearly as he can:

“Hey, comma, I’m gonna be about five minutes late. Period. Sorry. Period.” 

“Okay, this is the message I will send: “Hey, I’m Ghana be about five minutes late. Sorry weird”. Should I send it?” She says. She’s gotta be taunting him at this point. 

“Whatever. Yes, send,” he grumbles. Peter can work it out. 

He comes up to a stoplight. He holds his foot on the brake and grips the steering wheel. He hasn’t thought about it a whole lot, but now that he’s alone again, he starts to think about what he saw on that website. Why would he write that he’s bad at art? Like, yeah, it was ages ago. Maybe he’s learned since then, but Juno has no clue how somebody can get that good in just a couple years. He knows he’s probably overthinking it; maybe it was some kind of theater euphemism? But he can’t help but worry! It’s who he is. 

A horn honks. Oh, the light is green. He takes his foot off the pedal and gets his wheels rolling. 

From there on out, traffic is actually very forgiving. He only gets caught at one more light, and he’s there with three minutes to spare. He parks, realizes he’s outside of the lines, and parks again. He gets out of his car, quickly fixing his hair in the reflection of his window, and turns to see none other Peter Nureyev leaning against the tastefully eroded brick of the restaurant. He’s wearing a lavender suit and shimmery green eyeshadow. One leg is up against the wall, and his phone is pressed delicately to his cheek. He looks kind of perfect. Juno has to muster up the courage just to walk over to him. 

Peter’s brow is furrowed delicately as he speaks in rapid whispers into the receiver. His eye catches Juno’s as he walks over, and he sees his eyes widen for a fraction of a second, before he continues speaking. 

“I said the Michael Harding paints, you incompetent—“ he pauses to rub the bridge of his nose. His enormous glasses leave little imprints there, Juno notices. Cute. “Look, my Juno is here now. We’ll talk about this later.” He clicks the end call button and adjusts his lapels. “Juno, darling, I’m so happy to see you!” 

Juno opens his mouth to respond, but immediately closes it because Peter is leaning in to kiss him. 

At least—that’s what he figures is going to happen. In reality, Peter stops a millimeter away from his mouth and grins. One arm wraps around Juno in a comfortable little hug and the other goes up to his neck. 

“We’re by a window, darling, just thought I’d give them a show.” Peter’s eye’s are what the center of the earth wishes it could look like, all deep brown and black and almost red. He’s never seen them so close-up before, naturally. He huffs a laugh, because he probably should do something other than stare into his pretend-boyfriend’s eyes. Peter winces. “Your breath smells like tortilla chips.” 

Juno breaks and lets out a rather obnoxious snort. “Shut up. You’re into it,” He says, trying to be smooth. 

“Unfortunately, I am!” Peter says. He then places a hand on his hip and offers the crook of his arm to Juno. “Might I walk you in, my lady?” 

Juno fans himself and places his hand inside the offered elbow. “There’s nothing I’d love more, dear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! thank you for being patient with this chapter! im not hyperfixated on juno anymore so he’s harder to write, but i love this fic so it’s not stopping don’t worry! this just means the spaces between updates will be a little longer.  
> im on tumblr @joaquinterrero and twitter @touchtonereggie if you’d like to say hi!  
> as always your comments are the best i read all of them and also tell my mom what you guys say so please feel free to leave one i love a you.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ll be seeing you soon, I hope?” Peter asks. He’s holding gently onto Juno’s upper arms. 
> 
> “Yeah,” Juno’s voice is soft. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

The restaurant is incredibly lavish, all high ceilings and long tables and tiny, tiny plates. The chandeliers spread across the ceiling are dripping with gold that reflects around the room, giving it a pseudo-comfortable feeling. Not comfortable enough for someone like Juno Steel, regular gal, to feel at home. He clings to Peter’s arm for dear life as his date moves effortlessly across the shiny floors in his white dress shoes. 

The pair park next to a long table full of businesspeople in conservative dresses and dark suits. Juno feels like they stick out a bit, Peter in his pastels and Juno in his (Rita-selected) green suit. He supposed that’s the point, though, as the whole congregation notices their arrival and begins to clap. He stiffens, but he can feel Peter reveling in it.

“You’re all so kind!” He says. He bows humbly. Juno dips his head a little, unsure of his role in the situation. Peter straightens and tugs Juno towards the two empty seats in the middle of the table. “Thank you all for having us.” 

There’s a ripple of acknowledgement from the crowd and a menu being placed between the two of them. Juno rolls his shoulders back and places his napkin in his lap. He turns to Peter. 

“So, what’s the plan?” He keeps his voice down. Peter, who had been inspecting the selection of cuisine, looks at him quizzically. 

“We enjoy a nice meal for no cost?” He responds. Juno huffs. 

“I mean, do we have to, like, be couple-y? Are they gonna ask questions?” 

“Our lore isn’t that terribly deep, darling, I’m sure you can handle yourself.” He pats his hand comfortingly, if a bit patronizingly, and takes a sip out of his crystalline glass. Juno looks at his plate and his multiple forks and gulps. He has no clue how he’s going to manage this. 

A single menu is placed between the two of them. Peter leans in close to read it, shoving his non-prescription glasses up on his nose as if to see better. His shoulder is brushing Juno’s, not that he’s keeping track. 

“What are you thinking, angel?” Peter says. Juno’s eyes snap to the page and he grimaces. 

“These all look so...”

“Disgusting? Pretentious? Not at all filling?” Peter finishes with a quirked eyebrow. “Believe me, I know. People don’t come to these places to actually like the food, Juno.” He laughs, wide, head thrown back. “Just order whatever looks easiest to pronounce.” Juno frowns. 

“I would’ve assumed you’d be all about places like this,” he muses. Peter snorts, earning him a concerned look from the woman across the table. 

“No, Juno, my roots are much humbler than all of this.” A waiter appears behind the two of them and asks for their order. Peter orders for the both of them, thankfully, and they settle into some small talk. A gentle clinking removes them from their conversation. A very short woman with slicked-back hair and an impossibly skinny nose is standing up on her chair and smiling graciously at the crowd. 

“Ladies, gentlemen, and those of you who know better,” She begins, earning a laugh, “I would like to take a moment to recognize our esteemed guest, Mr. Peter Nureyev.”

A polite round of applause starts up. Peter stands and bows, smiling wide. 

“It has been quite some time since I’ve seen art so refreshing,” the woman continues. “No wonder you’ve been keeping your work a secret for so many decades. If I was that good, I wouldn’t want anyone near my work, either.” A tinkling of laughter rolls across the crowd. Juno huffs a laugh, but frowns. He looks up at Peter, who is blushing and rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh, Moira, you flatter me,” He says. “I have spent decades to myself, perfecting my craft. I simply couldn’t let a soul see it until it was as good as I knew it could be.”

Hang on. Decades? 

The two continue this pseudo-interview, but Juno tunes it out. That doesn’t make sense. According to that website, Peter was acting and decidedly NOT painting just seven years ago. Why would he be lying about all this? It doesn’t matter how long he’s been making art, no one will judge him for being a bit more recent into the field. 

Juno is pulled from his thoughts when Peter sits back down next to him. The waiter returns with two plates of... something. Juno pokes it with his fork. It jiggles. He does his best not to grimace. He looks at Peter, who is holding in a laugh. He glares and takes an aggressive bite. 

“Gross,” He says as he chews. Peter is nearly cackling as he takes a tiny nibble. Juno feels a tap on his shoulder. 

“Mr. Steel, right?” Says the man on his right. He has stark white hair and a gray mustache, his wrinkled eyes minimized behind thick glasses. When Juno nods, he smiles. “Dr. Ramses O’Flaherty. Doctor of art history, that is.”

“Pleasure,” Juno says. They shake hands. “Do you work with the museum?”

“Ah, no, I’m independent. I do seminars, I write articles. A bit boring compared to your partner here.”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true!” He says. He doesn’t mean it, but he’s not gonna be rude. “Art has a very interesting... history.” O’Flaherty laughs. 

“So, how did you and Mr. Nureyev meet?” He asks. 

“At a bar, actually. Nothing too interesting.” 

“Really? Nureyev doesn’t seem like the drinking kind.”

“Well, I don’t seem like the ‘dating-an-intelligent-artist’ kind, do I?” 

“You’ve got me there, Mr. Steel. But, I have to ask, were you aware of his career going into the relationship? He’s fantastic, of course, but art can be a very unstable career.” Juno prickles slightly. 

“I’m not in this for the money, sir. I like him because he’s a good person, not because he makes any amount of money.”

“Well, sure, but doesn’t it seem... suspicious, that he’s never spoken of his art until very recently?”

“It’s his personal life. I’m not sure why you care.” O’Flaherty raises his hands in surrender. 

“Pardon my interrogation, I mean nothing by it. Just curious, is all.” Juno nods carefully. O’Flaherty has a pretty punchable face, he notes. He turns back towards Peter, who is still working on the corner of his meal. 

“How long do we have to be here?” Juno asks through gritted teeth. Peter looks at him and holds out a finger. He’s still chewing. When he swallows, he speaks. 

“It would be a bit rude to dip out so early, wouldn’t you agree?” 

“Well, maybe—“

“I’m kidding, Juno. Finish your meal and we’ll go eat something that has nutritional value.”

Juno sighs and pops another chunk of the weird jelly into his mouth. 

 

In just under ten minutes (Juno really had to force that jelly down), Nureyev is bidding his farewells and Juno is standing impatiently by the door. He gets a mean look from one of the museum people, but he brushes it off.

Like, listen. He understands that this is a commitment he made and that he should have expected something like this, but that O’Flaherty guy really put him off. If a guy that seemed so friendly was that rude, what could the rest of them be like? It worries him that these are the people that Peter surrounds himself with.

Supposedly. 

Finally, Peter is dusting off his jacket and offering Juno his arm. He takes it, obviously, and offers Peter an apologetic smile. Peter shrugs it off and steers them out the door. 

Once outside, Juno lets go of his partner and stretches. He felt like the rich people’s smell had been physically weighing him down. “How do you handle stuff like that?”

“I understand, Juno. These situations can be quite tiring. You’re getting a bit cranky, dear, let’s get some food into you before you throw a tantrum.” He takes out his phone and types something. Juno scoffs, but brushed off the insult.

“You were serious about that?” He asks. Peter looks up at him with big eyes. 

“Of course. I’m sure I hate that food just as much as you do.”

“Well, yeah, but I can always get food at home.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. I like spending time with you.” He taps something on his screen. “An afternoon out at Marsdonald’s sound romantic enough for you?” Juno laughs. 

“Hang on, my car—“ Peter waves him off. 

“Think not of it. I’ll have someone send it back to your apartment. I apologize in advance for the mess in mine.” 

Juno is expecting a few soda cups, but Peter wasn’t kidding. There’s a makeup bag on the passenger seat that isn’t holding any makeup because it’s all on the floor in front of it. The back is filled with ratty books, various pieces of clothing, and—a green stuffed rabbit? Not to mention, of course, the several soda cups and fast food bags. Peter scrambles to clear the passenger seat. 

“Really, I’m so sorry. I should’ve anticipated on taking you with me. I spend a lot of time in my car, so it ends up quite filthy.”

“I’ve seen worse,” Juno says, “don’t worry about it.”

The two hop into the car and drive down the road to the Marsdonald’s. Peter orders a 12-piece nugget and a water, and Juno orders a chicken sandwich and a shake. He’s only a little self conscious as they eat together in the parking lot. Peter, through a bite of nugget, speaks:

“I’m sorry you were uncomfortable in there.” Juno shrugs.

“I could’ve stayed longer. Don’t worry about it.” Peter gives him a look, but doesn’t press further. 

“Who was the guy you were talking to?” He asks, taking a sip of water. 

“Huh? Oh, some dude. Doctor of art history, I think he said. Why?” 

If Juno didn’t know better, he would’ve thought that Peter had just stiffened. Then again, he doesn’t know better. He takes a mental note. “Oh! Um, no reason. Just curious. What were you talking about?” 

Juno groans. “Ugh, He was being so rude to you. He asked me why I’d be in a relationship with someone with such an ‘unstable career’ and a ‘suspicious background’. Like, okay, old guy! We get it! All you care about is money!” He takes a sip of his shake. “And, like, even if we were actually together, money is the last thing I’m worried about. You’re—“ his voice catches a little. “Uh, yeah. I mean, never mind.” Peter, of course, looks like he minds. His eyebrows raise and his mouth curls upward. 

“Oh?” He says, leaning over the center console, “I’m what?”

Juno shifts in his seat and looks down at the food in his lap. “Uh, you know. You’re...nice.” After a moment, he adds: “Pretty easy on the eyes, too.” 

Peter throws his head and laughs. “I could say the same about you, darling,” he says while wiping at his eyes. Juno feels himself turn red. 

“Well, that’s good to hear. We are, in fact, dating.” 

“Why, yes we are.” 

They finish their Marsdonald’s in comfortable silence. Peter’s phone buzzes. Juno glances in his direction, but he’s turned the phone to face away from him. He frowns a little, but Peter smiles. 

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m having such a lovely time, but I’m afraid something just came up. Let me drop you off.”

“Cool, do you need my address?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Peter puts the car in reverse and they back out of the parking lot. “Would you like to drop by the exhibit tomorrow?” Juno shakes his head.

“I have work,” He says. Peter laughs. 

“With the rate you’ve been available, I had forgotten you had a job,” Juno shrugs. 

“It isn’t so demanding. Besides, Rita’s used to covering for me.” 

“Ah, Rita! She seemed like a real peach when we met. How do you two know each other?” 

The conversation continues for the rest of the drive. Peter is excellent at asking questions and keeping interested. Juno really feels listened to. He wonders if Peter has a background in interviewing. He doesn’t ask.

They arrive outside the apartment complex and Juno unbuckles. 

“This is me,” He says pointlessly, because Peter has already parked. 

“Let me walk you inside,” Peter says. He exits the car and walks around to Juno’s door, which he opens. 

“Ever the gentleman, I see,” he says with a quirked brow. Peter smiles and jerks his head subtly behind him. Inexplicably, there’s a guy with a camera sitting at a table in the cafe across the street. Juno’s mood drops, but just a little as Peter offers his arm and walks him up the steps. 

“I’ll be seeing you soon, I hope?” He asks. He’s holding gently onto Juno’s upper arms. 

“Yeah,” Juno’s voice is soft. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

“I would never wish to,” Peter says, and then he’s leaning in to press a chaste kiss to Juno’s mouth. 

It’s very short. If he’s honest, Juno barely remembers what it felt like, but he’s still tingling. He fights the urge to bring a hand up to his mouth and shakes himself off instead. 

“Um,” he says, “well, bye.” 

He swings inside the building as quickly as is reasonable, but he doesn’t miss the slight fall of Peter’s eyes as he goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello guys. it’s been a while.   
> thank you all so much for being patient! i had been very uninspired to write this for a very long while, but i am back on my bullshit now. i literally miss juno so much i could punch something 
> 
> but anyway, as always, comments are mega appreciated! my podcast blog is @joaquinterrero and my twitter is @touchtonereggie if you would like to drop by! i love you!


End file.
